


Best Player in the Penalty Box (like in fantasy hockey)

by labhazard



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Ango isn't going to be brutally injured or horribly killed, Blood, Gen, Obviously Wonderland can get gory so I'm stating right here, Wonderland, because he's like ten and that's not how i roll, thank you for coming to my tag talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-23 19:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/labhazard/pseuds/labhazard
Summary: Everyone's favorite boy detective ends up in Wonderland.It's somebody's fault.





	1. Chapter 1

Angus skidded to a halt on his hands and knees. The multicolored tiles of the floor flashed mercilessly underneath him, the music a painful echo in his head. 

"Oh-ho-ho,  _ darling _ . That was a close one. And what a betrayal! Who could have seen that coming?" It almost sounded like sympathy, but he knew, by now, that it wasn't. He'd seen through that trick since the second the elves started talking. 

He rolled to the side as a battle-scarred ax slammed into the tiles at his shoulder, fighting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, to block it all out and pretend he was somewhere else. He'd tried that. It definitively did not work. 

Angus scrambled to his feet as Magnus--not Magnus, a mannequin, a mannequin that looked so,  _ so _ much like Magnus--charged at him across the technicolor floor.

"You're--you're not going to trick me! I know what you're doing and it's not going to work!" Angus's voice was strained, from hours of bargains and pleas and half-remembered spells. How long had he been here?

Laughter, more laughter, from all around him. 

"Who are you really telling that to?" the voice lilted. Angus tried and failed not to answer the question, and the next word hit him like a train. Fitting, he realized, faintly. That was where they'd met, after all.

"- _ Pumpkin _ ?"

Angus froze, caught in a memory, a voice that he  _ knew _ , a wizard, a thief, a patient teacher. He barely snapped out of it to shield his face as not-Magnus neared him. 

But not-Magnus wasn't there anymore. 

"Me?" 

A magic missile caught him in the shoulder, throwing him forward, into the flashing lights. Angus yelped, scrambled back, dreading what he'd see as twisted to look to the source.

"Or _you_?"

An elf smirked down at him, face dark under the brim of his hat. An umbrella swung from his hand, still smoking slightly. 

"S--Sir?" 

Taako raised the umbrella again, towards Angus's frozen form. The tip of it glowed, charging for another hit--and he couldn't take another hit, that much he could calculate--and flashed, just for a second. A blast of technicolor, pink, turquoise, neon yellow. It was lost in the illumination of the tiles, but Angus saw. He doubted, crosschecked, connected dots. He remembered an orange light, soft. He solved. Angus threw himself sideways as the blast hit and sprung to his feet again, eyes alight, indignant. 

"I am the world's greatest detective, sir and ma'am." He addressed the mannequin--and it was looking more like a mannequin every minute, its movements jerky, its face blunt underneath the hat--and the room around him.

"You're going to have to try harder than that to fool me!"

Angus rushed it, even as it raised the staff to try again, and looking closer, looking smarter, Angus could see it wasn't an umbra staff at all, just a prop umbrella with a wand attached. Angus swung his leg up and kicked it, hard, hard enough to shatter prop and wand apart. He snatched the wand and pointed it, shaky with adrenaline, at the not-Taako.

"And also, for future reference, don't try to kill me with wood! Because magic beats wood, and I, I am a  _ magic _ boy." 

Angus cast firebolt, fueled by memories of Taako,  _ his _ Taako, full of bravado and flair and bitterness, it seemed.

Angus cast firebolt and the mannequin folded easily under the blow, costume and illusions sloughing away in the flames, before the fire turned its attention towards the thing's wooden core. Angus stepped back from the blaze and watched it burn, breathing hard. The glow was almost comforting, the only half-natural light Angus had seen since he got here.

"Oh, how adorable. He still needs a  _ wand _ for  _ magic _ ," came the taunt from overhead, but the false sympathy, the indifference it had held before was gone. He had their attention now, for better or worse. A door at the far end of the room swung open.

"That's a little bit rude to say, sir." Angus slipped the wand into his pocket. "I'm a growing young boy. I'm only ten!" 

He headed for the door, moving faster as the lights shut off audibly behind him, leaving the burning body behind in the darkness.

The door, of course, led to the wheel. The elves were already there, leering down at him, their shadows shifting disorientingly in the floodlights.

"Congratulations, our young hero!"

"Another challenge surpassed, another daring escape from this _charming_ underdog!"

"But what will be in store for him this time, I wonder."

"With no protectors," 

"No companions to share his pain,"

"How much longer will he last?" 

With a final, sweeping bow, Lydia stepped back, gesturing him towards the wheel. Angus shrank under the glare that seemed to come from the whole room at once, but he stepped forward. No point delaying it, after all. With a forcible tug, that yielded a titter from one of the elves, the wheel spun. Eye spun by easily, and Angus felt some small portion of relief. Backpack, hand, and the question mark spun by, too, slowing, before the wheel stopped altogether. Edward let out a crow of laughter, and Lydia smiled.

Angus felt his breath hitch, unwilling, as the ticker landed on mind.

"Oh, _darling_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, it's our second player!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOY but I sure did pour a lot of dialogue into Jones the Guard for a character who will never return again 
> 
> Anyways as much as I'd love to keep throwing Ango around in Wonderland, time for a little bit of backstory!

_ "Don't _ call me that." Lucretia snarled--at nothing, the elves already concealed by their magic and impossible walls. 

""What is this?'" mimicked one of them, ignoring her.

"Why, it's the  _ Monster  _ Factory, of course!" chimed the other.

Behind her, Cam gave a quiet groan. He was down an arm, and bleeding badly under his shirt. He'd taken the worst of the wheel and the past few challenges, while Lucretia had managed to get through with only bruised ribs and a chunk taken out of her stamina. Nothing, by comparison. As Lucretia surveyed the factory, she registered with a quiet, grim certainty that her companion wouldn't last the challenge, even if he got through it untouched. He was running out of time. 

"Now, do you need a refresher on the rules before we-"

"Wait." Lucretia met Cam's eyes and nodded, a promise, a reassurance that she knew what she was doing. He gave her a shaky thumbs up with his remaining arm, his face drained of color, before clamping his hand back over the wound. 

In a blinding pink flash, the elves manifested before them, hovering several feet in the air in place of their usual podium. It would have seemed laughable, egotistical, if Cam were not quite so close to death. Lydia, sparkling, narrowed her eyes. 

"Oh?" 

"I want to make a deal."

Edward laughed behind his hand. "Oh, I'm sorry, dear. Do I look like a  _ cat _ to you?"

She blinked. "What? Look, we don't have time for this. We need to get past this to get a chance at healing, right?"

"If you're lucky," Lydia smiled coyly. "But do remember, darling-" 

Lucretia bit her tongue.

"There is  _ no _ healing in Wonderland. Just . . . rearrangements."

Lucretia balled her hands into fists. "It doesn't matter what you call it. We need to bypass this challenge or my friend is going to die. What do I need to give you?"

The question almost hurt to ask, looking at what Cam had given already, but Lucretia was done worrying about herself, for the moment. Anyway, her odds of winning were better with an ally, right? As she watched the elves' lips curl, their eyes meeting in some silent glee, her old anxiety settled in heavy, electrified coils in her stomach.  _ Right? _

"Give us? Oh, nothing. It's all about what you're willing to  _ take _ , dear."

"Take?" There was no way it was going to be that easy. "Take from who?"

"Oh, we'll handle all that. Let's just say, you and your buddy get a free pass, and if we ever find someone fitting enough to take your place, well, that's the deal!" 

Lydia smiled a predatory smile, the fluorescent lights of the monster factory flashing off her teeth. “Well, I say  _ if _ , but, darling, don’t worry. These things generally work out, for us.”

"Lucretia-" Cam started, hissing in a sharp breath as another rivulet of blood ran between his fingers. Lucretia steadied him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Save your strength, Cam, we're almost out of here. I think I can get us out of this challenge, okay?"

"No," he murmured, meeting her eyes. "No, Lucretia, I don't-- _ ach _ \--I don't want this." He shook his head, barely more than a shiver. "Don't throw someone else in here for me."

"Uh-oh," mused Edward, leaning closer. "Is someone not being a team player? We wouldn't want to have to dock any points." He tilted his head threateningly at  _ dock _ , and a piece of machinery somewhere in the room churned to life. 

Lucretia softened her face and turned back to her companion. "I understand, Cam. I'm sorry." 

She extended her hand to the elves. "It's a deal."

Lydia threw back her head and laughed, projecting vicious delight as she snapped her fingers. The floor underneath them spun, and the factory faded to black.

Lucretia woke up in a cold sweat, frantic music spinning through her head.  _ Wonderland _ . She'd thought she was done with those nightmares. She shook her head, trying to shake the panicked, ruthless, rat-in-a-cage feeling that she should have left behind down there, damnit. She was on the  _ moon _ now, for gods' sake. About as far away as you could run.

There was knocking, frantic, and her heart stuttered. Her staff was already in her hand as she made her way to the door, to a wide-eyed guard who stepped back at the sight of her, armed and disheveled from her dreams. 

"What is it? What's going on?"

"Madame Director, I'm so sorry, I couldn't--we looked everywhere--the room--he was already--" The guard was short of breath, and looking them over Lucretia could see they had their shortsword out, knuckles gripping it tight. Something must have shaken them up, but the base-wide alarms hadn't signalled anything. This was an internal affair.

She held up a hand to stop them, silently praying they wouldn't see it shaking. Tonight of all nights, she was not equipped for an emergency. 

"Slow down. Who?"

"Angus, Madame Director. Angus McDonald. He's--he's gone."

_ it's all about what you're willing to _ take,  _ dear _ .

"There was this burst of light from his quarters, it was--it was pink, I think? Madame Director?"

Lucretia shut the door behind her and stepped around the guard.

_ If we ever find someone _

She was walking, then running down the corridor, staff held out in front of her like a torch, or a shield. 

_ fitting enough to take your place _

"Madame Director?"

_ that's the deal! _

She whirled on the guard, finally, marshalling her thoughts into enough of an order to cover her back. 

“You-” she glanced at their badge, “Jones, tell Avi to ready a cannon. Tell Johann he’s in charge until I get back. Oh, and wake Garfield up.” 

They visibly winced at that order, and through the flat, glassy, horror of what she’d caused, Lucretia felt a measure of sympathy. She gave them an encouraging, short-lived smile as she turned away, before steeling herself, hardening her face and heart and mind as best she could, for what was to come.

“I need to make a deal.”


End file.
